


today, tomorrow, and perhaps the day after

by DoeEyedDarling



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arabian Nights Fusion, F/M, I should be working on Myriad Misadventures but I wrote this instead, Loki is more murderous than usual, Or Is he?, Slow Burn, sorry i'm trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-19 14:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoeEyedDarling/pseuds/DoeEyedDarling
Summary: They say many things about the new King of Midgard.They say he is tall, with icy skin and inky hair. That he wields ungodly amounts of power in his nimble hands, but rarely has to use them. That he has eyes that flash crimson when provoked, and a short, strong temper. That words pour out of him like quicksilver, slick and seductive and easy to believe, and it is this quality, above all others, which has taken him this far.They say darker things, too. You have heard the whispers of his rituals; a new bride taken each evening, a new head taken each dawn. Until they took your best friend, you almost didn’t think the rumors were true. Now that she’s gone....They say many things about the new King of Midgard.It’s high time you found out for yourself which of those things are true.





	1. Chapter 1

The guards sweep into the town square at eight in the morning with blood still on their hands. Everyone is gathered. A few months ago, when it had only begun, there were riots, protests, but now people are tired. Broken. Their daughters are dying and so is their will to fight. You see this in the tired eyes of Shari’s parents as the guards approach them.

The taller of the two bows, and hands them a box.

You know what’s inside. Everyone does. You’re tempted to go look, but you don’t want your last memory of Shari to be of her head, lifeless and grey and contorted into an expression of unimaginable pain.

Her mother opens the box, but instead of wailing at the sight, she simply closes her eyes, and looks away. Her cheeks are wet. She makes no sounds, but her shoulders shake as the guards walk away. Her husband places the lid back on the box, and gently guides her back inside. Shari was their only daughter. They have nothing else to lose.

They have no reason to stay for what comes next.

* * *

 The lottery happens every day, in every town, city, village, everywhere across the world. Everyone gathers to watch. For those who are eligible to be chosen, it is mandatory; for those who, by some merciful stroke of luck, are not, morbid curiosity is often enough to bring them down to watch, anyway. Besides, your village was established not too long before the takeover. This is a group of people who built their new lives up from the ground side-by-side, and then lost everything they held dear in the same vein. Better to witness tragedy in the company of those you love than sitting alone in a darkened room.

The guards ascend the platform.

It is the same as always. They stare out, saying nothing. When they receive news—either of the drawing or of a volunteer—they will call out the name. How they receive the news, you do not know. Some kind of magic. Dark magic, if the rumors are to be believed. And there are many rumors. They say many things about the new King of Midgard. They say he is tall, with icy skin and inky hair. That he wields ungodly amounts of power in his nimble hands, but rarely has to use them. That he has eyes that flash crimson when provoked, and a short, strong temper. That words pour out of him like quicksilver, slick and seductive and easy to believe, and it is this quality, above all others, which has taken him this far.

They say darker things, too. You have heard the whispers of his rituals; a new bride taken each evening, a new head taken each dawn. Until they took Shari, you almost didn’t think the rumors could be real. Now that she’s gone, you know they are. The realization cuts like a knife, slicing through skin and breath until it settles deep in your bones. It is a living, breathing thing, this pain. Shari is dead. She is dead, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Then again, perhaps there is.

It is not difficult to push through the crowd, to reach the edge of the platform. After all, who would want to stop you? It is extraordinarily difficult, however, to will your hands to stop tingling, your stomach to steel up, your teeth to stop biting your tongue just enough for you to choke out:

“You can take me.” It takes another deep breath before you can say the magic words, the final knot in the noose around your neck. “I volunteer.”

They say many things about the new King of Midgard.

It’s high time you found out for yourself which of those things are true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Darlings,
> 
> I wanted to do an Arabian Nights AU with Loki/Reader, but by the end of the first chapter/drabble it ended up feeling more like The Hunger Games? Regardless, this might be an extended story, might not. I'll definitely write at least one or two more chapters to see if the story flows. 
> 
> For those who may not know, the original Arabian Nights story is that of a king who, to avoid being cheated on, takes a new bride every night, only to have her executed at dawn, and Scheherazade is a woman who agrees to marry the king, and then uses her gift of storytelling to convince him to let her live another night...and another...and another... It's one of my favorite fairy tales, and I thought it would be interesting as a framework for a less sympathetic Loki. Definitely recommend all iterations of the original story; The Wrath and the Dawn is a reimagining that I read recently and really enjoyed.
> 
> If you want me to continue this story, definitely let me know!!! As always, all comments/criticisms/questions can go in the lovely little box below. :) Hope you're having a lovely day!
> 
> xoxo,  
> DoeEyedDarling


	2. Chapter 2

 

Before His Majesty’s rise to power, you had always associated sadness and fear with crying. Sobbing. Screaming. But as you stand here, in the most ornate room you have ever seen, being fitted for all kinds of fine garments that you will wear no more than once, you are beginning to understand that isn’t entirely accurate. There is a certain brand of grief that is not only beyond words, but beyond sound; some things are so terrible that the only appropriate response is silence. 

Shari is dead, and you have as good as signed your life away without a second thought. You have no plan. You want revenge, but how are you to achieve it in the twelve hours you have left before taking a scythe to the neck?

“Milady, your bath has been drawn.”

The bathwater is the warmest you’ve ever felt, so unlike the tepid leftovers you’re used to at home, and filled with some exotic-smelling oils that permeate the entire bathroom with their sweet scent. It’s a shame you are required to be bathed by your new ladies-in-waiting. Nakedness wasn’t exactly something you’d prepared yourself for when you’d decided to volunteer, and your self-consciousness at being so exposed is ruining your enjoyment of the luxuries at hand. When else will you have the chance to dry yourself off with hand-woven cotton towels? Or be enveloped in a robe so soft, it must have been spun from the clouds themselves?

The bath, the robe, the weighty jewels being clasped around your neck and wrists and to your ears and nose, all of it would be a dream in any other circumstance. But it is so heavy, all of it. The jewelry. The perfume. The promise of death. It is the last one which hangs in the air of your chambers—death. You sit on edge of the bed, draped in bright colors and dazzling embroidery, and all you can think is that the last time the sun set, Shari was exactly where you are, in this room—perhaps even on the same spot of the bed that you are on right now—and that, in a mere twenty-four hours, a new girl will have taken your place, and all you can do now is sit and stare and wait for—

“Hello.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking over a 300-word drabble written at 2AM: "iS tHiS a CHapTeR?"
> 
> In other words, sorry this is so short! I have nothing to say for myself except that it do be like that sometimes. Also I am getting over a cold, but since a mild upper respiratory infection really doesn't affect my ability to type in any way, that's not much of an excuse. 
> 
> But I still hope you enjoy! And I look forward to a longer update soon. :)


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